Colder Weather
by anne-writes
Summary: Hermione and Severus love each other, but he was born for leaving. A story about broken hearts, conflicting desires, and the overwhelming love that fights against them.
1. Chapter 1

I don't even know where this came from. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>She'd trade Colorado if he'd take her with him.<br>Closes the door before the winter lets the cold in,  
>And wonders if her love is strong enough to make him stay,<br>She's answered by the tail lights  
>Shining through the window pane.<strong>_

_"Colder Weather," by the Zac Brown Band_

Hermione sat on the sofa in the sitting room, tapping her fingers against the arm of her chair and thinking about the way he was, the way she was. Wondering if loving her would ever be enough to make him stay still. She couldn't live with his infrequency, his on-again off-again idea of love, the way he could be distracted from her for months at a time, and not even realize he hadn't kissed her in weeks. When she pointed it out, he got angry, he railed against her and fought the tethers keeping him in her home, in her bed. He hated nothing more than being tied down.

And the worst part of it all was that she knew the answer. She would never be enough, she _could_ never be enough, to hold him. He was like a wild horse—locked in a pasture, he could never be happy. He would fight the gates with all of his strength and never remember why he was trapped here to begin with. They might have their weeks, their months, of peace and happiness. But he would always realize he was trapped, always itch to leave, and nothing in the whole world could keep him still.

She knew she'd been correct in her assumption when he descended the stairs a few moments later. It'd been the end of a long six months, the first three beautiful and the last three the most painful thing she'd ever experienced. He'd never stayed for so long before. He would come be with her for one month, two, occasionally three—but then he would have to go, have to have an adventure that didn't involve her, sometimes lasting weeks, sometimes months. This had been happening for the past four years, ever since the his acquittal at the end of the war. He loved her, she knew. She wasn't surprised he was leaving again. It was what he did best—leave.

He walked over to her chair, kissed her hard on the forehead, then the mouth. She started to cry, silently. He stood.

"I'll be back soon," he murmured, awkward suddenly, and she could feel the room clench around them. She said nothing. He hesitated for another moment, and she could see the desperate longing flash across his face—he _wanted_ to stay, and she wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

He _wanted_ to stay—but he couldn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**_He said, "I want to see you again,  
><em>_But I'm stuck in colder weather.  
><em>_Maybe tomorrow will be better—  
><em>_Can I call you then?"_**

_"Colder Weather," by the Zac Brown Band_

She was cooking dinner when she found out he was back. A large, black owl swooped down from the sky, flying quickly and gracefully to her window. The window was thrown open to let the trailing bits of summer sun in, the fresh breeze blowing in a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat in the house that even cooling charms couldn't stave off completely. The owl had a small piece of parchment tied to its leg, and it hooted at her softly as she untied it, giving the owl a trimming of the steak she was about to cook. It didn't fly off, however, and she had the sinking feeling it'd been told to wait for a reply.

Hermione uncurled the parchment, already knowing what she was going to find. Even three years later, her heart pounded at the sight of that owl, and at the memories that rushed back in, triggered by the spiky black handwriting.

The note wasn't addressed, wasn't signed, it simply read "_I will be back in London tomorrow._"

The owl hopped from the windowsill down onto the edge of the sink, hooting again, louder. She petted its head briefly, struck silent and almost immobile, before turning and quickly rifling through a kitchen drawer to find a quill and ink.

"_Severus,_" she wrote on the back of his note, "_You may meet me at the coffee shop near my house at 1pm._" Tying the note to the owl's leg, she gave it another bit of meat, and it flapped away into the evening.

Hermione sighed, rubbed her eyes, and went back to cooking.


	3. Chapter 3

**_She said, "You're a rambling man,  
><em>_And you ain't ever gonna change.  
><em>_You've got a gypsy soul to blame,  
><em>_And you were born for leaving."_**

_"Colder Weather," by the Zac Brown Band_

Hermione was at the coffee shop precisely at 1:05, and walked in. She saw him, sitting out on the back patio, and with a deep breath and strong intentions, she went to join him.

Severus stood when she walked over. He looked good, wearing black slacks and a thin black button-up shirt. He looked relaxed, as though his gypsy soul was assuaged for the time being, a far cry from the last time she'd seen him, walking away from her three long years ago.

"Hermione," he said softly, reaching out and brushing the hair out of her face. She jerked her cheek away, not ready for him to touch her, not ready to even be next to him. She could feel her body wanting to sway toward him, her heart screaming in frustration that she wasn't letting him wrap her up in his arms. But her mind, as it usually did, won, and she stepped back and dropped into the empty seat.

His jaw tightened, and he sat as well.

"Auror Snape," she said, keeping her voice light though her throat was clenching and she was holding back tears. She'd sworn she would never cry over him again.

He didn't say anything, just looked at her, gaze fierce and hurt and… sorry. He looked sorry. Contrite… but that wouldn't, couldn't, be enough. It'd been enough before. Not now.

"I've missed you," he said softly, taking a sip of his coffee. He'd bought her one too, and she reached for the cream, adding it until the drink no longer was the color of his eyes. Until it was hardly brown at all.

"You take cream now?" he asked, trying to inject a lighter tone into his voice, but it just came out stiff and awkward.

"You don't know me anymore, Snape," she said, voice low.

He finally dropped his gaze from hers. She could breathe again.

"I want to, though. I never stopped wanting to know you. I've never stopped loving you, Hermione. You have to know that."

She shook her head. "You don't get to come back."


	4. Chapter 4

**_At a truck stop diner just outside of Lincoln,  
><em>_The night as black as the coffee he was drinking,  
><em>_And in the waitress' eyes he sees the same old light a-shining,  
><em>_He thinks of Colorado, and the girl he left behind him._**

_"Colder Weather," by the Zac Brown Band_

Severus was on the road again. He couldn't stop roaming, couldn't stop leaving anywhere he ever went. It was too hard to sit still, too hard to be in any place long. It was in his bones, and he lived for it. He loved travelling, loved sleeping in dingy inns, and loved hunting for the men no one else could find. The question that was plaguing him, that was making his travels hurt silently, was whether he loved her enough to give it up.

And that was a decision he couldn't make tonight, couldn't make this week, hadn't been able to make for the last three and a half years. Seeing her in that coffee shop almost six months ago… that had been hard. Seeing her hurt and knowing it was his fault was even harder. And the very worst part of it was not wanting to fix it, not really. He just wished he could have both.

They'd tried the Apparating thing, they'd tried Portkeys, and they'd tried loving one another even when they were apart. He couldn't do it, couldn't settle enough to be held to a schedule and blamed for missing his scheduled weekends with her, and she couldn't live without the constancy of a real partner. They'd been whipping against each other for a year before he ended it, telling her he would be back soon, and walking out the door. But he hadn't returned, hadn't owled, hadn't even ever said goodbye.

It nauseated him, made him sick, to think that he was accountable to anyone. That she wanted to tame him, wanted him to hold her every night, kiss her every day. He couldn't, wouldn't, be held in that way. Not even by Hermione. Not even by his love.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Well it's a winding road  
><em>_When you're in the lost and found_**

_"Colder Weather," by the Zac Brown Band_

God, it hurt. Severus wanted to be able to love her like any other man could. Like so many other men _did_. Though he hadn't spoken to her in those three years, hadn't contacted her in any way, he wasn't a spy for nothing. He knew how to find out about her, how to hear of her one-night stands and her always short-lived relationships.

The idea that he had broken her was his only comfort. He was broken, couldn't love properly, and he wanted her to be the same way. He wanted to be the only man that could ever make her happy, even though he apparently was the one who made her sad.


	6. Chapter 6

**_You're a lover, I'm a runner  
><em>_And we go 'round and 'round._**

_"Colder Weather," by the Zac Brown Band_

Severus was in London again, walking slowly up the street to her house, pausing at the front gate before slowly pushing it open and walking up to her door.

He knew she'd set her wards to him, knew she already knew he was there. It hurt more than it should have that she didn't throw open the door and wrap him in her arms.

He knocked. A long, brutal minute passed, and he was about to knock again when Hermione pulled open the door. Her hair was down, so much longer than the last time he'd seen her, and she was wearing an old button-down and jean shorts.

She said nothing, just shoved a slightly shaking hand through her hair and met his gaze with a fierce glare.

"May I come in?" he asked quietly, politely, in a way he knew she couldn't refuse.

She pulled the door open more and stepped aside, still silent.

The house smelled like fresh cookies and old books, with that underlying something that defined her. Vanilla, sunflowers, mothballs, laundry detergent. Her. He hadn't been inside this house in over four years, hadn't seen her since that coffee shop a year ago. Too long, too fucking long. His chest felt less tight in her house, with her near. Something inside him quieted, purred, content once again.

"What do you want, Severus," she snapped as he stalked past her and planted his feet firmly in the living room, turning to face her. He wouldn't be ejected from her house so easily.

"_You_, Hermione. Gods, all I've ever wanted is you."

Her shoulders stiffened. "You're lying, Severus, even if you don't know it. You are single-minded in your pursuit of freedom, and I am the ball-and-chain tying you down."

He couldn't protest that—it was true, tragically true. Star cross'd lovers or some shite.

"I love you," he said softly, stepping toward her. She took a step back, keeping the distance between them. Gods, how that distance hurt.

"I love you," she replied, cool, distant. "But I cannot live like that again."

Severus shoved a hand through his too-long hair, pushing it out of his face. "Be with me, Hermione. No one will make you happy like I can."

"No one will ever hurt me like you can. I will take happiness in a smaller measure because it means so much less pain."

His eyes itched. "_Hermione_. I have never meant to hurt you. I cannot stop roaming—I am a hunter in the most basic way. My soul will choke if it cannot move about. You don't know what you ask of me."

She shut her eyes. "I do know. Severus, I cannot stop needing you around, needing a commitment. I need something you cannot give me, just as you need something that I cannot not give you—that freedom."

Severus said nothing, standing there, confused, in pain. Wanting to run away.

So he did. He walked to the door, brushing his fingers against hers as he passed, just for a second, because he didn't know when he would return.


	7. Chapter 7

**_And I love you but I'll leave you,  
><em>_I don't want you but I need you,  
><em>_You know it's you who calls me back here, baby._**

_"Colder Weather," by the Zac Brown Band_

In the end, it wasn't as long as he'd thought it would be.

Severus' tracking brought him back to London often. Her city, their city. He could usually push her from his mind anyway and concentrate on his hunt, his adventure. When he was working he was single-minded, and the feeling of getting swept away into that was exhilarating, addictively so.

But this lately it was different. Now, today, six months later, when the man fled London for Moscow, Severus didn't _want_ to go. There was a tugging in the pit of his stomach when he Apparated away, one unrelated to the magic transporting him to Russia. The beast in his chest was raging, something he'd never felt before during a pursuit—usually roaming was the only thing that could quiet his soul. When he caught the criminal, spy, whoever he was hunting, and his mission was done, the beast would writhe and itch, and to soothe it he would either hunt again or end up back at her doorstep, knowing that holding her could quiet him, at least for a time. But now… now he longed to _stay_. In the middle of a pursuit, he wanted to be in London, he wanted to find her again, to hold her like he used to. It felt like that was the only thing that could pacify the monster in his chest.

So he did. He let the man slip away, knowing that it might cost him his career, and Apparated back to her street.

Hermione opened the door before he knocked, awakened by his breach of her wards, wearing a pink satin nightdress and obviously roused from bed since it was the midde of the night. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and she reached for him before snatching her arms back when she realized what she was doing.

"God, what do you _want_ from me, Severus," she yelled, hitting him in the chest with her fist. He stood still, and she hit him again, and again and again, before bursting into tears and letting him wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

"_You_, Hermione. I want you."

She cried harder. "You—have broken—my heart—so ma—ny times," she said, in between sobs and hiccups and wholly unattractive sniffles.

"I _love_ you," he said, pressing his mouth into her hair, smelling her, holding her tighter. "I don't know what to do, but I can't live without you. I've tried for four and a half years, and my craving for you has been building and building. When I finish an assignment I feel so _lost_, I don't know where to go, and I end up accepting another fucking mission the next day just so I won't have to think about how I _should_ be curled around you in your bed. When I am done I always _need_ you, so badly I can barely breathe. This time I'm not even done, I abandoned it, I don't even care, I just fucking want to be near you. Please, gods, Hermione—please let me love you. I can't bear this anymore."

She had quieted, her breath still hitching against his chest. Slowly, she pushed herself away from him. He loosened his arms but didn't release her, worried she would tell him to leave, that his chance had been over five years ago. But she didn't, she just reached up and curled a small hand against his stubbly jaw. He turned and pressed a kiss into her palm.

"What's changed, though? You've always loved me. I can't live like we used to—you have to be able to love me always, come home when I need you. I know that you roam, I know it's who you have to be. But I can't be the second-most important thing in your life any longer."

"Everything has changed. I don't know, I just… I realized that you're the only thing that matters. You're the only place I will ever belong. The only place I will ever care about belonging. And I think I'm growing, healing—after the war I couldn't bear the thought of remaining anywhere long enough to care about anything again. And then the thought of remaining with you terrified me. It still terrifies me. I am stunned with the glory and the madness of it."

She said nothing, just looked at him, cheeks wet. The hope that glinted somewhere in those hazel depths startled him slightly, and he got that terrible itching in his shoes, demanding that he bolt, run, get away from her as fast as he could. The beast in his stomach, the gypsy in his soul, couldn't bear to be near her for a moment longer. He gritted his teeth and ignored all those feelings, for the first time in his life.

"Hermione… I still have to be able to leave. I can't be kept in a cage, no matter how gilded by your love. It burns me, it tears me up inside, to be kept from leaving. I was born for it."

She'd stiffened in his arms.

"But I will come back to you every fucking chance I get. And it can be perfect, we can make it perfect. Please. Please let me try again. I want to try for the rest of my life—I can't live without you, even if you're just a memory while I'm sleeping in a stable in Siberia, freezing to death. No matter what, Hermione, I will always love you. I will never stop. I need to be able to come back to you."

Hermione tugged his face to hers, pressing her forehead against his and taking a deep breath.

"Please," he whispered, voice cracking.

Her breath hitched and she nodded quickly, pulling his mouth down to hers.

He met her lips hard, taking, wanting to hurt her the way he'd been hurting for these past five years. Her lips were gentle, absolving him in a way he didn't deserve, forgiving him for the horrible things he'd put her through. She understood him in a way no one else could, loved him in a way no one else ever had. He'd been pushing her away for so long and she would still take him back, still love him. His cheeks were wet, and he wasn't sure whose tears they were.

He backed her into her house, slamming the door behind him and shoving her against the wall, knocking over a table with a vase of flowers in the process. She groaned into his mouth, wrapping her legs around his waist as he ground against her. She'd have bruises on her hips, her thighs, in the morning. His bruises. She was his.

He bit her neck, and she arched against him. "Gods, Severus, just fuck me. Love me later." He smiled slightly into the crook of her neck, jerking up her nightgown and quickly unbuttoning his trousers.

When he sank into her, she moaned, deep and throaty, and then gave a short little cry as he ground against her hard. He was silent, awestruck, eyes shut and focused single-mindedly on having her, feeling her clench around him. When he began to move faster, began to touch her in that way her knew she loved, when she came against him and crushed her lips to his, when he came with a choked cry and sank with her to the floor, he understood.

He was home.

**_When I close my eyes I see you,  
><em>_No matter where I am,  
><em>_I can smell your perfume through these whispering pines.  
><em>_I'm with your ghost again—  
><em>_It's a shame about the weather,  
><em>_But I know soon we'll be together,  
><em>_And I can't wait till then._**

_"Colder Weather," by the Zac Brown Band_


End file.
